


Only After Dark

by DracoMaleficium



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Drabble Collection, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-23
Updated: 2016-06-23
Packaged: 2018-07-16 20:58:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7284481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DracoMaleficium/pseuds/DracoMaleficium
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Because I knew I'd need a Batjokes smut drabble collection sooner or later.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Only After Dark

**Author's Note:**

> Right, so, the drill is pretty basic: this is gonna be a place where I post any and all standalone batjokes porn, of all varieties, that I happen to produce. Prompts are welcome, here or on [my tumblr](http://dracze.tumblr.com). Not sure how many ficlets I'll end up putting here but the current circumstances have inspired me to sin so here we are. 
> 
> The first fic is for [Mitzvah](http://mitzvahmelting.tumblr.com) for daring me to write smut in the first place. The title should be pretty self explanatory. Established relationship, the honeymoon period, because every once in a while I just need some fluff and happiness even for these two, you know?
> 
> Oh, and a PSA: I'm not a fan of bottom Bruce and I don't know if I could even try to write it, so just giving you a heads-up, it'll probably be bottom!Joker whenever there's penetrative sex.

It’s a cold night. Bruce carries the chill of it on his cape as he squeezes in through the open window and stands in the tall attic room. He breathes in, and smells damp wood, musk and just a hint of old bolognese sauce. 

“Baby?” a voice calls from within the room, thick, hopeful. “Is that you?”

Bruce smiles. The chill of the night melts off him just as everything inside him both tenses and relaxes all at once. He whispers, “Yes,” and steps closer.

Joker is already pulling himself up on the threadbare mattress by the far wall. His hair is sticking out in all directions as he rubs his eyes, his mouth already breaking into the eager smile that turns the warmth in Bruce’s gut from a simmer to a steady boil, and as always, he doesn’t know what to do with it…

… except one thing.

He kneels by the mattress and leans over Joker, and allows two skinny white arms to lock around his neck and pull him down. Joker is kissing him even before Bruce has a chance to settle down beside him — on his chin, on the corners of his mouth, all over the cowl, hot and happy and as liberal with his affections as he is with his cruelty. The wooden floor and the springs of the mattress groan in harmony under their weight as they shift against one another, limbs fitting into familiar spots, breaths mingling, quiet whispers of “I missed you” and “I’m here now” and “I love you” and “I know.” 

Joker is quick to slip his fingers under the cowl and tug it off. As soon as it slips off Bruce’s head impatient lips mark his forehead, his eyelids, his cheeks and nose, over and over and over again, and Bruce lets himself be pushed close and snug, finding that warm spot just under Joker’s pointy chin. 

He breathes out. His eyes are closed, and Joker’s body is a blanket of heat all around him, arms keeping him close and a leg hooking over his hip, trapping him through the folds of the fluffy purple blanket. Bruce’s own arms, still gloved, come up around Joker’s back, feeling up the bare skin, tracing the lines of ribs and shoulder blades.

Joker shudders. His long fingers stroke through Bruce’s cowl-sweaty hair. 

“I’ve been waiting for you,” he whispers. 

“Yeah,” Bruce smiles into the skin of Joker’s chest. “I can tell.”

His hand goes lower, lovingly drawing along the curve of Joker’s ass under the blanket. It’s not at all a surprise to find Joker isn’t wearing a stitch of clothing. He knew Bruce was coming tonight, and he’s made himself ready, waiting here all naked and warm and open —

“You don’t understand,” Joker whispers, and Bruce can hear the smile in his voice. “I said I’ve been… waiting.”

One white arm moves. It lingers in Bruce’s hair, over his ear, tracing the skin there gently, kissing with careful fingertips. Travels under Bruce’s jaw and teases with a scratch here and there, under the chin, over the neck. Tilts Bruce’s head up so Joker can finally kiss his mouth, and Bruce moves into the kiss eagerly, opening up and resting a hand on the back of Joker’s neck. 

Joker allows the kiss to deepen and linger, long enough for the warmth in Bruce’s stomach to turn into familiar tugging heat but not nearly long _enough_. He pulls away with a playful tug on Bruce’s lip, then props himself up on one elbow. 

“Waiting,” he repeats, his smile changing into something coy, crooked. “And ready.”

Gently, he lays his hand on Bruce’s arm and starts to guide it down, along his own body, past the jutting hipbones and over the globe of one naked cheek, and then — in.

Bruce looks up at his face. “But —”

“Shhhh,” Joker whispers, giving Bruce’s mouth another short kiss. “Trust me. I’ve got a surprise for you.”

The heat, already well on its way down, surges to Bruce’s cock. He swallows. Nods. “All right.”

He presses into the crack between the cheeks, and Joker obligingly hikes his leg higher over Bruce’s hip. Bruce’s gloved finger circles around the sensitive skin around Joker’s opening, then teases an inch deeper, careful not to slip inside without lubrication, but then Joker uses his own hand again to urge it deeper, and…

Oh _fuck_. 

Bruce’s breath catches as his finger taps against something firm and plastic already barring his finger from entering Joker’s body, and he wants to swear because… because…

“You bastard,” he hisses. “You beautiful bastard.”

Joker grins and says, “I told you, I’ve been wait —”

Bruce lunges up to catch his mouth in his and pushes him down onto the mattress, wrestling his weight on top of Joker. He can’t wait any longer. He imagines Joker lying here on top of the blanket, in the dark, gazing at the bat-signal through the skylight and fucking himself open with whatever plastic toy is now lodged up his ass, and his cock _throbs._

“What is it?” Bruce demands between kisses, which are now wet, panting, hungry. 

Joker giggles. “Why don’t you see for yourself, love?”

He moves his hips to grind them against Bruce’s nice and slow to make his point. Bruce growls and kisses him one last time before he sits back on his haunches between Joker’s legs, which happily plant themselves feet-down on his thighs, spread in lewd invitation. 

“Go on,” Joker tempts. “Take a look.”

He tilts his hips up, levering himself on Bruce’s thighs. His spine arches in an enticing curve as it lifts off the mattress. Bruce licks over his bottom lip, then grabs Joker by the hips and pulls him closer. 

Whatever the toy is, it’s black, and has a little handle brushing against the sensitive skin between Joker’s hole and balls. When Bruce tries to pull it gives easily, but the sound Joker makes is so captivating that Bruce decides to take his time. He starts to tease the toy out inch by inch, wiggling it to the sides as he does, just because the slow pace makes Joker whimper and writhe so prettily, his legs coming to lock and dig their heels into the back of Bruce’s neck.

Yeah, Bruce isn’t normally one for surprises but he is definitely enjoying this one.

He is having the time of his life until the toy is halfway out and he spies the splash of yellow against sleek lubed-up black. Intrigued, he twists — savoring the moan Joker gives in response — so he can examine the picture, and he sees the pattern on the yellow background, and…

 _Oh my God_.

“J,” he manages against the bubble of hysterical laughter that clogs up his throat. “Seriously?”

Joker grins like he’s just pulled the prank of a lifetime. “Yup! Got it at a discount, too!”

That gives Bruce pause. “You mean to say,” he asks with dawning horror, “that you didn’t have it custom made? People actually _sell_ these?” 

“Of course!” Joker throws his head back as delighted peals of laughter hiccup out of him. “There’s different designs, too! This one’s called Classic but there’s also Retro, and Futuristic, and Rainbow, and —”

Bruce shakes his head, arousal momentarily forgotten as his mind jumps to an entirely unwelcome image of a sex shop with an entire shelf of bat-logo dildos. And if they’re being produced, that means there’s a demand, and _that_ means…

No. Bruce refuses to follow this train of thought up to its logical conclusion because frankly, if he did he’d lose all appetite for anything sexual for at least a week and he has a feeling Joker wouldn’t take kindly to this development. Besides, it’s just. Just _no_.

“Do you like it?” Joker purrs, somehow managing to look smug and collected even as he’s spreading himself open for Bruce with a sleek black dildo halfway out of his ass. “I got it online. I took the liberty of using your credit card, hope you don’t mind.”

Bruce’s thoughts crash into a wall of horror. “You —”

Joker nods enthusiastically and winks. He looks like Bruce’s reaction is the best thing to happen to him in weeks. “You don’t mind, do you? I’m sure you’d have bought it for me anyway if I asked. You know, to keep me company… on those long, long nights when you’re away… something to remember you by…”

His voice pitches low and throaty and normally, that would be enough to get Bruce’s cock interested in the proceedings again. He can’t quite make himself focus on the — admittedly alluring — mental image of Joker fucking himself on this thing, though, and that’s because he is now forced to ponder that somewhere out there, in the offices of an online sex shop, there is an unnamed employee with a record to prove that billionaire playboy Bruce Wayne once ordered a dildo with the bat logo on it.

But it turns out Joker isn’t quite done torturing him yet.

“They had other designs too,” he informs Bruce with glee. “Wonder Woman logo. Green Lantern. Superman. They called _that_ one the Man of Steel which, you know, _chapeau bas_. Batgirl designs, too. And Robins…”

Which, as Joker must know, is exactly the wrong thing to say. 

Bruce grabs hold of the toy, twists it out of Joker’s body completely, then pushes it back in, _hard_ , and smirks at the surprised high-pitched squeak his lover lets out. 

_Well isn’t payback a bitch._

“You like that?” he demands as Joker tries to decide whether he should laugh or moan and ends up doing something that’s a bit of both and neither. “You like toys?”

“Your toys are my favorite, baby, you know that,” Joker pants over a breathless half-smile when Bruce pulls the toy out almost to the tip and then slams it back in, and again, and again. “But I had something a little… different… in mind…”

“Yeah, I bet,” Bruce murmurs, watching the sleek, almost elegant black dildo disappear into the tender flesh between Joker’s legs, hugged tight and firm on its way in but with more than enough lube there already to make the passage smooth and easy. His cock tingles with hunger, eager to be let out of the confines of the codpiece and join the fun, but Bruce thinks, _No. Not yet. Let the bastard squirm a little longer._

He watches the little painted bat disappear in Joker’s body, slick and wet. He watches it emerge again, with milk-white muscles contracting around it as though trying to keep it in just a little longer. He swallows.

_Fuck._

He makes himself wait. He makes himself go slow, and watch, and just enjoy despite the erection which now borders on painful. Joker has caught on and is now spread luxuriously on the mattress, his eyes closed, his mouth open in a smile of bliss as he lets Bruce fuck him with the toy, and his moans are quieter now, breathy, the sort of satisfied purr that means Joker is enjoying himself just fine and doesn’t need or want to rush it, and… well, Bruce isn’t quite ready to think about what it means that he can interpret Joker’s sex noises so well. 

“Is this good?” he asks quietly, still tracing the progress of the little bat going out and in, out and in, slower now that Bruce has let himself ease the pace. He doesn't exactly know when that happened; it just feels right. The sight is mesmerizing, like everything else about Joker. It makes the ridiculousness of the sitation sort of... flake off, like bits of old paint, and all that's left is the two of them, right here, right now. 

Bruce doesn't know how this works. But the thing is, it does. And he's done thinking about the whys. 

“Yeah,” Joker breathes out. “It’s good, baby. You’re so good to me. A little deeper — to the right —” He gives a happy moan when Bruce slowly drives the toy as deep as it will go, curving to the right, and he rakes a hand over his curly hair, and tugs on his own erect cock with another, and…

… Yeah, that’s enough of that. Self control is all well and good but there are limits.

Bruce leaves the dildo in as he moves back to get the belt off, keenly aware that Joker is watching him with his bright half-lidded eyes and stroking himself leisurely, like he knows exactly what it does to Bruce. Bruce doesn’t let it last long — he only shoves the pants of the suit and the undersuit down enough to get his cock out, and pulls off the gloves, and then he’s moving back in, hovering over Joker, pulling the ridiculous dildo out with one rough tug.

“You ready?” he asks, leaning to kiss the smile off his lover’s face. 

Joker’s arms come up around his neck just as his legs lock around Bruce’s waist. “Always,” he whispers, and his eyes glitter in the dark.

The kiss is slow but deep, languid. There’s still plenty of time left till dawn and they both know it, and it’s a rare luxury, to be able to just enjoy one another as they are, together, finally without a hundred reasons to stop holding them back. Bruce never thought they’d ever get this far. That they’d get anywhere. And yet…

“Okay,” he tells Joker between small kisses to the corners of his mouth. “I’m going in.”

“Fucking finally.” Joker giggles, the legs around Bruce’s waist squeezing lovingly. “Come on, big boy, make me scream.”

Bruce smirks and gives him another kiss before pulling himself up. He fishes for the belt again and then for the secret compartment where he's started to keep the condoms. He rolls one down his cock, adds more lube just to be safe, then takes his cock in hand and aligns himself. Joker helps by tilting his hips to make the angle better. They look into each other’s eyes and just for a moment, the sheer, pure, overwhelming _love_ passing between them catches hot and raw in Bruce’s throat.

He doesn’t think he can handle this now. Maybe not ever. So instead he breaks eye contact and slowly pushes in, and has a feeling that Joker knows exactly what’s going on through his head.

The passage is so smooth. So easy. So open, with Joker contracting around him to make the friction just right, and Bruce lets out a long sigh because _God_ that feels so good. The relief would have made his knees buckle if he were standing up and as it is, it swims through his head like a blessing, the edge taken off the night, his mind going soft. He takes his time inching inside, cherishing the warmth and the pleasure of just being connected like that, being one, being whole. He kisses Joker again when he’s all the way in, and Joker kisses back, the smile still lingering on his mouth. 

“Come on,” he breathes, “come on.”

“You’re amazing,” Bruce tells him, feeling warm, full and _hopeless_. “Ridiculous and amazing.”

Joker pushes himself up to kiss his ear. He licks the lobe and then nibbles on it lightly, sending currents of electricity to course through Bruce’s body. Bruce keens quietly and his hips jerk, jolting both of them.

Right. Right. 

He starts to move, and Joker is falling back onto his pillow with a joyful sigh, and his heels are digging into the small of Bruce’s back, and Bruce is pushing, and pushing, and _pushing_ , and the city cloaks them in black and, for once, lets them be.


End file.
